


Mayhap

by simplecoffee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cuddles, Exhaustion, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Nightmares, Thor gives the best hugs, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Cuddles, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony may come off a bit irrational, and gets it, but he's not at his best here so please forgive him, everything is better once you've had a little sleep, rest is a weapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Pepper is away and you are hurting and there's a bunch of superheroes constantly a-milling, and you - you are only human, and kind of an idiot at times to boot. But Thor, Thor is a thousand years old, and you mustn't, you don't, you <b>can't</b> deny a wisdom such as his.</i>
</p><p>Or: Tony is exhausted; Tony gets a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mayhap

**Author's Note:**

> For the AvengerKink [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19023.html?thread=45191247): _Seriously, I just want Thor giving all the hugs._ OP expressed a preference for Tony as the recipient, so here is Tony as the recipient. :)

The nightmares are worse when Pepper's away, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it - except bundle up to sleep in the workshop, and that's a thought reserved for rougher times than this. You've been in meetings the whole damn day, maybe a day before that too, maybe R&D the day before _that_ , there are things you need to finish tonight before they're on your tail _again_ , and you - you just need some damn coffee, okay. - That or a blanket, and you can't allow yourself the latter.  
  
Coffee. You want coffee. And you're stumbling past the Avengers' lounge in search of that very thing, contemplating the merits of putting on an extra hoodie, when your progress is arrested by a hand on your arm.  
  
It's a pretty large hand. It's also warm. You kinda can't take your eyes off it.  
  
"You're unwell, Golden One."  
  
The voice is also treacly-warm, and you know you'll break if you look up, if you meet the molten eyes.  
  
"Jus' tired, big guy," you make yourself say, the syllables slippery against your teeth, and you know what, your head is _pounding_ , why didn't you notice that little fact before, "mainline s'm coffee - be right as rain."  
  
Thor gives a noncommittal hum, then a hand cups your other elbow, mirroring the first.  
  
"Tony," he says, so exquisitely gentle, and you can't get away, you don't want to get away, but if he comes an inch closer you will _dissolve_ -  
  
He doesn't come closer; not quite yet. He shifts a hand, instead, to just above the small of your back. Watches for resistance. Finds none. You're defeated.  
  
He slips his arms around you then, cradles you close, and you go willingly, and you're _so tired_. You fall against him, sugar to his warmth, turn a sob into a cough at the very last second, pretend you're not clinging like a goddamn limpet as his hand moves to cup your head.  
  
"You are troubled," he says softly, the merest rumble against your face, and you want to say _no shit, Sherlock_ , but he's stroking your temple and the words die in your throat. You may have closed your eyes without realizing it.  
  
You may have begun to breathe easier, without realizing it.  
  
"Can't," you whisper, trying to struggle, hoping he hears, hoping he doesn't. "Shop. - Things. To finish."  
  
"They can wait. Your people can wait."  
  
" - _can't_."  
  
"They would not wish such distress upon you, _järnhård_."  
  
You say nothing, because maybe they wouldn't. The board is a whole other can of worms, but R &D actually gives a damn, it's why you like them, it's why they at least pretend to like you, although at times like this you can't help wondering. Pepper is away and you are hurting and there's a bunch of superheroes constantly a-milling, and you - you are only human, and kind of an idiot at times to boot. But Thor, Thor is a thousand years old, and you mustn't, you don't, you _can't_ deny a wisdom such as his.  
  
Instead, once more, you let it hold you, put your head against its shoulder, melt into its arms, for if Thor believes you deserving of this, then maybe, just maybe - _maybe_ you are.  
  
You let him guide you gently along, let his hands on your shoulders stroke the fight right out of you. Let him ease you onto the couch; let him keep your body safe as you drift.  
  
Consciousness does not leave you easily; you wake more than once to a warm hand rubbing up and down your back and sides, easing the shivers, until you finally know no more.  
  
When you surface next - though barely - you're on top of someone, being held still, and you're wearing a fresh, this warmer, hoodie. Maybe you're still just out of it enough to nuzzle the collarbone of the person beneath you, and maybe you relish his rumble of amusement and tuck your head right back under his chin.  
  
He rakes his fingers softly in your hair, says, "The others were worried too, you know," and maybe you pretend you didn't hear, and sigh and fall asleep again.  
  
Maybe R &D really can wait this time. Maybe Pep will be back sooner than later. And maybe, maybe, Clint has photographs, but you just can't bring yourself to care.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Järnhård_ means _iron-clad_.  I know, I know, Allspeak and all, but let me have my pet names, m'kay?


End file.
